Terminal
by AlmostGolden
Summary: My parents are divorced. I have no friends. I've never been kissed. Normal girl problems right? Well, there's one more. I have six months to live.    Based off of 'The Bucket List'
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! Ahh, I'm sorry, I need to update **_**Flipped**_** and **_**Harmony **_**so that I can get to **_**Every Girls Dream **_**and **_**God In You. **_**But this idea popped into my head in school and I just figured I should do it. I got the idea from the amazing movie ****The Bucket List**** which is the namesake of my story, but of course, the characters and also the whole plot is totally different. Everything, except I'll probably do the skydiving thing. But other than that, there's really not much that's alike besides the central idea.**

**So don't hate me and please Read and Review! It makes my day!**

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"Alright, Ms. Morgan. You're done for now, get some rest for the big day. I won't be here tomorrow, but Nurse Morrison will take care of you," Doctor Joseph Solomon said, picking up his patients file. He was a tall man with a solid, lean build, looking more like a twenty something actor than a radiologist that just hit his fourth decade.

However, the young girl sitting up in the hospital bed rolled her eyes. "Joe, you could at least word it a little differently. Mick is just a residential nurse and she's barely five years older than me. She's not going to be _taking care of me_."

The elder man smiled wryly, but his blue eyes were filled with more concern than amusement. "Of course, Cameron. Nurse Morrison will _assist_ you tomorrow." He arched his eyebrows questioningly and was answered with a satisfied nod from the petite girl. He had chestnut brown hair and bright, almost clear blue eyes with a flawless tan complexion; whereas Cammie's messy bun was dirty blonde and her eyes were the deepest sapphire the doctor had ever seen. And although she was pale with a dusting of light freckles across her nose, she was the closest to a daughter Joe had ever had. Of course, this was to be expected. With the amount of time the nineteen year old had spent in the hospital in the last sixteen of her life, he had practically raised her.

"Okay then, Cam. I'll see you in a few days, okay? I'll be on call on Saturday, and I'll see when we can release you, depending on how your body reacts."

"Cool." She reached into the metal drawer beside her bed in the terminal radiology ward and pulled out an iPod nano. She didn't look up as she put on the earphones. Joe stopped and stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze.

"Listen, I know you think that what's done is done, but we're still trying, okay? And you have to, too. Fight through it tomorrow. If you handle it well, we could buy you a lot of time."

"Whatever. Bye Joe."

Joe sighed. He placed her file into the clear holster to the right of the doorway. It still baffled him as to why she had just given up. Given up fighting. Given up trying. Given up faith.

Then again, how much hope were you allowed when you were diagnosed with terminal cancer?

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Bex closed her eyes. On the other side of the curtain, she could hear the incredibly gorgeous Doc talking to that other girl. Carmen, was it?

She fingered her greasy hair. It had only been three days since she had last washed it, but her fine, shiny hair needed only thirty six hours before it became a little _too glossy_.

She would get up and wash it. She wanted to, she really did. But unfortunately, her whole body was stiff and sore, and she was afraid that if she moved a muscle she would puke her guts out.

Welcome to the life of a chemo patient.

When Bex first got to this new hospital, she wasn't so thrilled. She had left before her boyfriend, Grant, could have his last rites performed. Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Newman agreed that the endearing Rebecca Baxter should have a shot of living past the age of twenty, even if their son didn't.

Which was why Bex was moved to an intensive care unit in the radiology ward of one of the top cancer research hospitals on the east coast. And Roseville, Virginia was a whole lot different than New York City.

For one thing, it was too quiet. Suffering from insomnia because of the _absence_ of car horns and yelling taxi drivers sounds strange, but that's what was happening. Second, there was no Grant.

Bex was diagnosed when she was eight, She then spent two years living on and off in the hospital.

By the time she was ten, the doctors believed she was cured. Unfortunately, she lived five more years believing nothing was wrong, while a tumor grew inside of her. One day playing tackle football, she fainted. That's when they found it, and she found Grant. After the painful process of removing it, she found out that she had relapsed.

And this time? It was terminal.

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**So, hope you all liked it. It's just a teaser I guess. I've already started writing the first chapter, and the more reviews I get, the faster I'll put it up. Don't worry, those of you who have read some of my other stuff know that my chapters are usually longer than this. And if you haven't… go read 'em now!**

**And I think there was another story about Cammie having cancer. But this isn't like that. Because this story is AU, meaning no spies, and … well, you'll see. The plot will be way different, which you know if you've seen ****The Bucket List****.**

**So thanks. Review pleaseeee! It makes me totally happy.**

**And remember: A happy writer is a faster updater!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, this is the fastest I've ever updated. And I'm disappointed that I only got three reviews, but it's alright because I love this story so much. SO yeah. Here you go.**

"So, uh, Becca-" Cammie had just gotten the nerve to talk to the intimidating girl before she cut her off.

"It's _Bex_." She said without looking up from her novel.

Cammie cleared her throat and began again. "Umm, right. Bex. Listen. I know you've been here a while, and I've felt pretty rude not welcoming you like I should have. After all, I am the closest to your age here. You're twenty, right?"

Once again the girl nodded.

"Right," Cameron was at a loss. She had figured Rebecca would be grateful that she was attempting to make nice with her. After all, the nineteen year old had her own reserved bed here since she was three. The whole ward was a family, and Cammie was right at the center of it all. This was Rebecca's ticket to belong here, not that she had made much of an effort herself. "Well, anyway, if you need anything, or anyone, I'm Cameron, but you can call me Cammie. I'm right," she paused to point over her shoulder at the open curtain that separated the two, "over there."

"Okay," Bex finally made eye contact with her, and Cammie was met with a blank stare. It was as if she hadn't taken in a single word she had said.

"Well, see you around, I guess," she said uncomfortably, before swishing her curtain shut and taking out her laptop.

What she missed was Bex's tiny whisper, "See you,"

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My iPod is my life.

That's right. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't have any real friends, besides the little kids in my ward, who are all fourteen and younger by the way. My parents… well… I don't want to get into that, but you should get the point.

I'm in the hospital so often, it's like I'm cut off from the outside world. My only lifeline is my Genius playlist, which automatically hooks me up with new songs. This way, I'm listening, enjoying, feeling the same things that normal girls do. And with my uncomfortable white ear buds in, music blasting deafeningly loud, staring out my window at the pouring rain, knowing some other girl somewhere is doing the exact same thing… that's when I feel most alive. I might as well treasure that anyway. It's not going to be happening much longer.

Cam. Shut up. You know that Joe hates the pessimism.

But Joe's not here. And he can't read your mind, can he?

Well, who knows? Joe Solomon is the closest thing to God that I had ever laid eyes on. Not because of his good looks, EW, I can't even think of him that way. It's because until four months ago, I thought that he could do anything. Every time I relapsed, he was there to save me, bring my almost _rigor mortis_ body back. Every time I felt the tiniest bit alone, he was there with ten reasons I wasn't. All the while making it seem as if he had no idea what he was doing.

My name is Cameron Ann Morgan, I'm nineteen years old, and I have eight months to live.

And if he doesn't know how to save me, then nobody can.

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_Retch. _I heave for one last time.

_Retch._ It's the last time.

_Retch._ Last time.

_Retch._ I swear it.

Okay, I'm done.

Throwing up is really not Bex Baxter's favorite pastime, no matter how it may seem.

It's a side effect of the chemotherapy. These people never give up. The Radiological Emergency ward in the Roseville Medical Research Hospital is not just a home for cancer patients. They like to experiment with people to see what might happen.

And as I read back over that I realize that I made it sound as if this place treats us like specimen, but that's not what I meant.

They're constantly researching, even when all hope seems to be lost. That nurse with the humongous boobs, Nurse Morrison, told me that it's saved quite a few lives. Which is why, even thought _I know_ that I'm dying in six months, the doctors here act like they haven't heard the newsflash.

So that's why I'm still undergoing chemo. But this was my last session. I asked, because I'm over the age of eighteen, so I have the rights to my own body, to be left in peace for my last half year. I want to enjoy it.

So I've decided that after I'm done getting all of this puke my body suddenly seems to have generated out of my system, it's road trip time. I'm going to do everything that I've always wanted to. I'm going to go to exotic places, eat foods that have always been 'too hazardous to my health'; I'm going to go bungee jumping, skydiving, everything. And I'll start with number one on my list:

**Bex's Bucket List**

**Make a (real) friend.**

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The next day, Cammie's head bobs up and down as she loses herself in her music. She prides herself on her amazing playlist. No matter who you are; pop princess, oldies rock cult member, wannabe rap artist; you'll find something you like on there. She's sure of it.

Right now she's listening to Invisible, by Taylor Swift. She's in that Taylor Swift mood, where all you can do is mope around and listen to songs that, heartbreaking as they are, make you wish you were in love.

After all, Taylors had her heart broken many times, but at least she's had the chance to put it out there.

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So I'm just minding my own business, right? And then Bex barges in and rips my headphones out of my ears. Like, what the hell?

I sigh and force down the biting remark bubbling at my tongue. "Can I help you?" I ask through what probably looks like a grimace.

"Yeah. You said I could come to you if I needed anything, right?" she says, eying me.

"Uh-huh. What's up?" I paste a bright smile on my face, which seems to make her even more uncomfortable. What's wrong with this girl?

"Listen, what you said, about us being close in age. You're right, so far everyone in here either looks five or fifty," I open my mouth to correct her, to say that the kids here range from four to fourteen, and the adults don't even stay in this ward, but she waves me off and continues. "So. We _should _stick together."

And here's where I get really confused. "Umm, I'm sorry, what? I don't really understand."

"Let me break it down. We both are gonna go off the deep end soon, so we've got to make the best of what we've got left, right? So stop the chemo, and come with me on a road trip. It's going to be one hell of a journey, and when we inevitably kick the bucket, we're not going to be moping around, thinking of all the things we could've done if only we had lived longer." She said all of this in one breath and for a long time I just stared at her. I took a good look at her for the first time. She had almost flawless skin; she would be a supermodel if it weren't for the cancer eating away at her. There were a few scars here and there from surgery all over her body, just like myself. What intrigued me however, was not the vast amount of scars marring her brown skin, it was the overall look. She had one blue streak in her dark hair. Three piercings on one ear and four for the other. A nose stud, which surprisingly made her look refined and superior. She was obviously going for the tough girl thing.

And it would work if she didn't have warm chocolate eyes that were blatantly hoping that I would accept her request.

**What did you guys think? PLEASSEEEEE review! I love reviews! They inspire me to write! Pretty please with Alex Pettyfer on top?**


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